


It’s Just So “Hemingway-esque”

by CherryBlossomMonologues



Category: HEMINGWAY Ernest - Works, Original Work
Genre: F/M, Juvenilia, Spain, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBlossomMonologues/pseuds/CherryBlossomMonologues
Summary: This original vignette was an experiment with Ernest Hemingway’s “tip of the iceberg” style.





	It’s Just So “Hemingway-esque”

**Author's Note:**

> According to my notes, this text was written on December 13, 1998 with some minor revisions in April 2001.

It was night, and people filled the streets.  I walked slowly down the  _Calle de Sacramento_ , ignoring the traffic signs and turning onto the  _Calle Mayor_.  After a short distance, the road widened into the  _Puerta del Sol_.  There was a concert beginning on one side of the Puerta and someone onstage shouted, “ _Bienvenidos, Madrid_ ”.  I moved through the gathering crowd and continued on the  _Calle Mayor_.  I descended some steps to a small underground restaurant called  _La Caverna_ and sat down at a table in a corner.  When the waiter came I ordered a plate of  _cocido madrileño_ and a bottle of  _Jerez_.  The sherry was quite good.

I saw Mark enter.  He looked around the room twice.  The third time he saw me.  He sat down at my table.

“She’s here.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Jesus, Eric, I never thought she would come here.  Oh God, I don’t where to go!  What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know.  Its up to you.”

“I loved her, Eric.  Really, I did.  It was so awful, seeing her there that day, flowers in her hair…and kissing  _him_!  GOD!!”  He was crying.  He was making funny noises in the back of his throat.

“I want some more sherry.” I motioned to the waiter.  “ _Más Jerez, por favor_.”  The waiter brought another bottle.

“You’re trying to get drunk.  Dammit!  You hate me, don’t you?  Your family hates me, too.  Please forgive me.  I was crazy.  I didn’t know what else to do.  She was leaving me!  I felt so helpless.” He moaned.  Tears were gathering under his chin.  “Please forgive me.”

“Did you know that this restaurant was Ernest Hemingway’s favorite in Madrid?”

“Dammit, Eric.  You’re changing the subject.”

“Not really.”

“You are.”

“Fine.  I am.”

“Eric, I’m going through hell.  I’ve been hiding for the past two weeks.  What if she sees me?  What’ll I do?”

“Have some sherry.” 

“You HATE me, don’t you?  You do.  I can see it in your eyes.  You’ve hated me ever since I—”

“I’m tired.  I’m leaving.   _Camerero, la cuenta, por favor.  Gracias_.  Keep the sherry, Mark.”

He started to cry again and covered his face with his hands.  I left  _La Caverna_ and went home. 

When I arrived, I got undressed and went to bed.

 

* * *

 

I was sitting in the Plaza Mayor in  _La Café Triana_ four weeks later.  It was a pleasant afternoon, and it was just beginning to grow dark.  I watched people walk around the perimeter of the plaza and sit on the benches and talk.  I looked at the cobblestone pavement and the lampposts and the high red walls of the plaza with their many windows.   

When I turned back to my glass of  _sangria_ , Jenny was sitting at my table.  She looked very lovely.

“Hello, Eric.”

“Hello.”

We sat in silence for awhile.

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked.

“I’d like to try some  _sangria_.”

I ordered two more  _sangrias_.  We clinked glasses.

“I like Madrid.  It really is nice.  Lee would have loved it.  I got a great price on the house, you know.  Amazing what people will pay for a good two-story colonial these days.  They didn’t even bargain.  I won’t need money for a long time.”

“That’s good.”

“How long has it been?  Five years?”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“I should be angry,” she said.

“But you’re not.”

“No, not anymore.  It took some time.  But I got over it.”

“Oh.”

“Sometimes, I miss him.  Sometimes I wish things had been different.  Sometimes I wish I had never met your family.  But most of the time, I just don’t think about it.”

I didn’t speak.

“I went to  _El Prado_ , yesterday.  I’ve always wanted to see  _Las Meninas_.  It really is beautiful.  The child is a perfect doll.”

Jenny stopped speaking.  She placed her hand on my face.  “You look so much like my…like your brother.”

“Of course.  We were twins.”

“I wish things had been different.”

I closed my eyes.  I heard Jenny get up and walk away.  My throat was tight.  Damn them.  Damn my brother.  Damn Mark.  Damn Jenny.  Damn them all.  I started to remember, my thoughts jumping around.  The coroner’s voice.  “He never knew what hit him.  I’m sorry.”  Jenny’s cheek on my shoulder.  I ordered more  _sangria_.  My mind calmed.  I remembered the  _Guadarrama_  Mountains outside Madrid.  They’d be cool, unlike the heat in the city.  Maybe I could go camping, even catch up on some fishing.  It would be nice, peaceful.  I decided to leave tomorrow.

 

END


End file.
